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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26403316">To Tame A Tiger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antitonic/pseuds/Antitonic'>Antitonic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Blaseball (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canada Moist Talkers (Blaseball Team), Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 11:21:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26403316</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antitonic/pseuds/Antitonic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A new transfer to the Canada Moist Talkers ruffles feathers amongst the ranks. Can a certain marine biologist pull off the hardest challenge she’s ever faced this side of the pitcher’s mound?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Canada Moist Talkers Fanfiction</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Great Expectations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She watched the spectacle in front of her with a detached sense of disgust. It was bad enough that they had lost what felt like the collective heart of the team in the Feedback storm, but Richmond’s replacement, this “Fish Summer” was showboating and posing for the official Profile Artist and tearing through shirts using their teeth, THEIR TEETH!, with reckless abandon. They almost seemed to be enjoying it, with not even a care of how their new teammates felt.</p><p><br/>
“It’s preposterous! Just look at them: not an ounce of restrain or decorum in them! If this is what the Hades Tigers are fostering in their players, I can only imagine what their fans are like!” Mooney Doctor scoffed with a glare, hidden behind her glasses. The team had been asked to attend a press conference to discuss the season’s progression and playoff ambitions, but Summer had made it all about themself in no short order. She looked at her teammates for reassurance in her assertations.</p><p><br/>
Eugenia, in their usual optimism, just shrugged. They seemed to be mildly amused at the whole show. PolkaDot was nowhere to be found, of course. They showed up to the stadium precisely three minutes and sixteen seconds before the horrific screech of “Play Ball!” emerged from the Umpire, and left as soon as the game was over. A case to be made for consistency at least, and Mooney could appreciate that. Lachlan was oddly distant; usually he could be counted on for a positive comeback or playful remark that got the team in a good mood regardless of the result. If Mooney didn’t know better, she might have thought he was... angry? But no, that was illogical. Hobbs didn’t take any notice, still transfixed towards the dugouts, looking for a figure that wasn’t there, eyes red and raw from tears.</p><p><br/>
It was Ziwa that breached the awkwardness of the silence. “Yeah, I kinda get what you mean, Doc. It’s not very, you know, Canadian.”</p><p>Mooney huffed in agreement, before a spark of inspiration hit. “I wager we can make something of them. Show to the splorting world at large that Tigers can indeed be Tamed. My hypothesis is that with some etiquette and refinement, I could take the image of “Hot” Fish Summer, and transmogrify it into one of a “Pleasant” Fish Summer.”</p><p>Ziwa looked at her with a wry smile, the first from any of them in the time since the incident. “Are ya sure Doc? I reckon they might bite back.”</p><p>"<em>Please.</em> I'll have you know I'm a PhD in Marine Biology from the..."</p><p>"...University of British Columbia, yeah yeah, we know." Ziwa joined in chorus of Mooney's now-familiar complaint. She had said it often enough that the rest of the team knew it by heart partway into her second season as a full-fledged team member. Greer Lott snickered from behind the cutout, remembering the after-game hangouts when Mooney was on one of her "date nights" withe her wife, ad the rest of the team would hold unofficial "Doctor Imitation Competitions" to determine who would buy the next round. Haley could <em>nail</em> her exact tone of indignation, and it was a team favourite.</p><p>From their position relaxing on their bat and letting the localised rain cloud wash over their head, Workman Gloom piped up, "Isn't that actually a Philosophy degree?"</p><p>The look of absolute betrayal and shock on Mooney's face would have had people rolling in peals of raucous laughter under normal circumstances, but emotions were still too raw to see too much light in the world. Richmond had always loved a good laugh.</p><p>Ziwa reached up and gave Mooney's arm a pat, in an attempt to calm. "Look, you said "wager", right? Hows about this: Take until the playoffs start, and try and convert our new best friend over there..." they indicated with a nod of their head toward Fish Summer, who had attracted even more of a crowd than was registered to attend the event and was now flexing and opening their jaw as wide as it would go, to the accompanying sounds of swooning and appreciative gasps. "...into your idea of an ideal Canadian citizen and fellow Moist Talker, and at one of our Party Time events, the rest of us, as a team will judge your success."</p><p>"And just <em>why</em> would I want to give up my precious free time in this pointless endeavour?"</p><p>"Lemme ask you, Doc: How's the relationship going with the wife?"</p><p>Mooney clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth and trying to keep her temper from flaring. "You know <em>perfectly well</em> how it's "going", Mueller. That <em>hit piece</em> in the Gazette is STILL in circulation, despite my flawless arguments for its retraction and apologies to be issued in print and on social media! And CASA are still standing by their <em>ludicrous</em> decision to place penalty rates on my travel, as if I weren't <em>single-handedly</em> funding at least one of their intern programs and they know it!"</p><p>"Yeah, but anyway, so what if it was my shout? Heck, I'll even throw in a couple of Strongarms tickets for you."</p><p>Mooney scoffed at the very thought. "You? Where would you get the money for something like that?"</p><p>In response, Ziwa just turned their bicep to make the armband more visible. "That Spittle Candy sponsorship? Yeah, finally came good."</p><p>"Well in that case..." Mooney extended her hand to shake, but withdrew it at the last second. "Wait a moment, that's if I win this little contest of yours, but you never mentioned anything about if I don't win. Not that it would happen, but you <em>are</em> on the judging panel."</p><p>Ziwa laughed. "Damn, hoping you wouldn't notice that. Okay, sure, I'll pay out if you win. But if you can't back up your own bull, there <em>is</em> something I'd want from you."</p><p>Narrowing her eyes, she asked the obvious question. "<em>Like</em> what?"</p><p>"Oh, nothing major, just maybe your 9.5 graded Soupy Wilde Rookie Tlopps card? And, like a poutine or something, I'm not picky."</p><p>That brought a pause. While she had no special attachment to the card itself, it <em>had</em> been an anniversary present from her wife, and <em>that</em> was certainly reason enough to refuse. On the other hand, she was mostly certain Soupy Wilde had been one of Tyler's favourite players, and maybe this was another way for Ziwa to build their connection. One more wholesome than that piercing at any rate. She gave her teammate a appraising glare. Behind the playful nature and attitude, she could see the hurt that still lingered in their eyes, almost a silent pleading.</p><p>"I don't see any reason why not. It's not like there's any chance I'd lose your little game, so I might as well take some free time in the deal." Once more, she extended her hand, and the pair shook, hands damp as was both tradition and an unavoidable fact of living in Halifax.</p><p>"That's gonna look real good on my shelf, Doc. Just sayin'." Ziwa said smugly. Mooney just harumphed to herself.</p><p>"OH NO!" A cry came from the media congregation. As one, the team turned to see what was going on. In an effort to play to the crowd, Summer had evidently pretended to take a bite out of the Giant Inflatable Richmond that still adorned the entrance to Gleek Arena due to Management's poor contract handling skills, but had managed to accidentally take an <em>actual</em> bite out of it, leading to the cheap vinyl falling in deflating sheets.</p><p>Cain was the first one up, because of course he was. "How could you do that! First you take him from us, and now you ruin everything! Aren't you even going to apologise?"</p><p>Fish Summer looked at the Inflatable in bewilderment, then back at the diminutive batter. "Uh, no. Why?"</p><p>Hobbs looked as if they were crazy, before stuttering over a list of angry syllables, crying out in exasperation, and turning his back on the shark.</p><p><em>"This may be more trouble than I had anticipated." </em>Mooney Doctor thought to herself, her left hand clenching her splorts-legal lab coat out of stress.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Our Mutual Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“JUST HIT THE DAMN BALL! IT’S RIGHT THERE!”</p>
<p>Mooney Doctor was torn between turning away in disgust and a show of disownership, and pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to stave off the migraine she could feel coming on. Fish Summer was standing at the back of the stands yelling into centre field, completely invalidating the plan of assuming anonymity to observe the game without being bothered by fans.</p>
<p>”For the <em>last... time </em>Fish, that’s not how the PBL works!”</p>
<p>”Eh? Why doncha tell me again then, I forgot. I mean look, that Umpire’s barely floatin’! That ain’t right!” They gestured with a wildly swinging arm, barely cognisant of the traditionally reserved crowd that had started to recognise the stars in equal amounts of affection and incredulity. The tone of the muttered conversations Mooney could pick up weren’t exactly the most flattering though.</p>
<p>She took a deep, calming breath before continuing in a lecturing tone. “The Provincial Blaseball League has different rules than those that we’ve used to; even different to those observed in the Underleagues. At this level, the game is about fostering empathy, skill, and good splortsmanship on top of a love of the game.<br/>Since this is an even-numbered inning, teams take turns focusing on their pitching. After each pitch, the player at bat and the player on the mound confer and aim to come to a consensus whether the pitch was a skilful  one or not. If they agree, it’s recorded as a strike. If they disagree, or agree that it wasn’t skilful, they return to their positions and try again.</p>
<p>Then, in odd-numbered innings, teams focus on batting. Active players debate whether or not a swing should count as a run or not. It’s all quite... Are you even listening?”</p>
<p>Fish was staring into open space, snapping their jaw intermittently. “Huh? Uh, no. There’s all these squiggly things around me, and I’m kinda hungry.” They punctuated their statement with another loud, snapping bite.</p>
<p>Mooney’s eye twitched. At least it was Malison’s turn at pitch, and she was curious about the youngster’s progress since last she saw. “Oh for... okay, fine, that’s okay. Let’s try an experiment then. Do you see the child approaching the mound?”</p>
<p>”Yeah, what about ‘em?” At least they were paying attention for now.</p>
<p>”After this pitch, I want you to give your advice on it; whether you’d consider it a strike or not.”</p>
<p>”Is that all! Come on Doc, give me a challenge!” Fish grinned smugly.</p>
<p>”Just.. just try it. Please.”</p>
<p>Malison took her stance, read the signs from the shortstop, pinned the fins on her head back to lower wind resistance, and threw the ball.</p>
<p>To Mooney’s practiced eye, the pitch was a solid one, save only for an unfortunate fade to the left over the last few feet. Despite herself, Mooney was proud, and allowed it to show. But tradition was tradition, so she gave just the expected gentle clapping of approval.</p>
<p>Fish however, did <em>NOT</em> give the traditional clap. Instead, they stood up to their full, intimidating height, and bellowed into the field, louder than before to ensure they were heard. “<strong>HEY KID! YEAH, YOU! YOU SUCK!</strong>”</p>
<p>Even from this distance, Mooney could see Malison’s jaw drop in shock and tears begin to well up at the corners of her primary eyes.</p>
<p>”<strong>YEAH, YOU HEARD ME! MY GRANDMA COULDA HIT THAT STINK OF A PITCH!</strong>” They continued, until Mooney stood too, face-to-chest, as she glared at the shark person in a fury.</p>
<p>”FISH SUMMER! That is a CHILD! And, not that it’s relevant, but that <em>happens</em> to be my COUSIN!”</p>
<p>An epiphany hit the shark with an “Oh.” They looked toward the mound, back at Mooney, and back at the mound, ignoring the surrounding crowd stunned into silence.</p>
<p>”<strong>HEY KID, I WAS JUST JOKING! CAN’T YOU TAKE A JOKE? YOU DON’T COMPLETELY SUCK!</strong>”</p>
<p>If the crowd was quiet before, they were downright silent now. A faint sobbing sound could be heard from the pitcher’s mound. Fish Summer growled to themself a little before addressing Mooney again.</p>
<p>“Right. I’ma head out. Weird game you Canucks have.” And without waiting for a response, they made their way through the gathered crowd, down the stands, and left the arena.</p>
<p>The rest of the game proceeded thankfully as normal, after of course Mooney was allowed to comfort her cousin before the game continued. Partway through the final innings, which were designated to fielding challenges, Mooney received a text message from Lachlan Shelton.</p>
<p>“Hey doc up 4 a feed 2nite? Sumthing to talk about w/u”</p>
<p>She responded: “I hadn’t planned anything for this evening, so I would be delighted to attend. Did you have anything in mind?” She thought for a moment Before sending a second message: “Also, please remember that I asked nicely if everyone could please use proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation, even in texts? It’s really not that hard.”</p>
<p>Shelton’s reply was quick, and irritating: “lol”. Thankfully, it was followed by: “But srsly. 8pm @ Barrett’s, Im not paying 4 u tho”</p>
<p>Mooney sent back: “For someone asking a favour of someone else, you’re certainly being rather particular.”</p>
<p>”💖 U 2 Doc”</p>
<p>Mooney sighed before replying. “Fine, I’ll be there, but you have to buy my first drink. Glass of the house red, thank you.”</p>
<p>The response was quick, as the entirety of the message contents was an animated emoticon styled like Lachlan’s face giving a thumbs up. Ugh.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Mooney walked up to the pontoons that substituted for pavements in Halifax. The water parted around her feet as Mooney’s wife looked out for her. She could see Lachlan’s skiff tied up a short distance from the restaurant, as she avoided getting too close to minimise the effect of draining the water around it.</p>
<p>Barrett’s Private Beer Garden was known around town for having quality food and drink providing you could get lucky and catch the head chef when xe was sober. Mooney spotted Lachlan at a private table, so she asked if she could join him.</p>
<p>Judging by how quickly her drink was brought out and their orders placed, he had been waiting for some time, despite giving Mooney a fixed time.</p>
<p>”Well Lachlan, I’m here. Is everything alright?” She asked.</p>
<p>He ran a hand through his hair, all but pulling at it in stress, letting out a single, despairing laugh. “I thought I could handle it Doc, I really did.”</p>
<p>”Is this... about Richmond? Because we <em>all</em> feel...”</p>
<p>”It’s... it’s not just that. I mean, that didn’t help, but I think this has been a long time coming. Just... like I know it’s not something you’re meant to say, or even think, and now I think that makes me a bad person, and I...”</p>
<p>He was getting quite agitated now, so Mooney places a hand on his arm in a calming fashion. “Hey, it’s alright. Look, it’s me. You can talk to me about anything. Just take your time and collect your thoughts.”</p>
<p>Lachlan lifted his head from his hands, and their eyes met. Mooney smiled with a gentle look of genuine concern. She hated seeing her teammates; no, <em>her friends, </em>in pain. He took some deep breaths, and continued in a calmer voice. “I know how this is going to sound Mooney, and I need you to know I don’t mean how it might sound, but I can’t find the right words. Everywhere I look, in every team, every game, every crowd, I’m not “normal”. Blaseball seems to have the market cornered on sentient animals, unknowable entities, artificial constructs, and all kinds of things. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t have any problem with anyone in that way, but I look at them, and I look at myself in the mirror, and I’m just... a guy. And no offence, but even you! Have you seen your hair? It’s even worse now that we’re all getting ranked in some sort of popularity contest; what chance do I even have? You have people like Telephone that seem normal, but then you find out she’s a time-traveller as well as being super-talented? How is that fair?!”</p>
<p>He sighed, stopping just short of letting his emotions take over. Staring into his soup, he said quietly “I even got to the point that I started looking for a way... out.”</p>
<p>Mooney gasped. “But you know that the only way out is...”</p>
<p>Lachlan nodded. “Incineration, I know. And we can’t even do that because of the pre-game foam that Coach puts us under, because of Management’s decree. Believe me, I tried.”</p>
<p>”When... did you...?”</p>
<p>”Game 20.”</p>
<p>They sat in silent solidarity for a moment as Lachlan played with a spoon, stirring his soup. He spoke first. “I think I have an idea, but people are going to hate me for it.”</p>
<p>”What are you going to do?” Mooney asked in a horrified hush.</p>
<p>”Way I figure it, if I just upset the Umpires enough, they’ll try and torch me. When that fails, and if I keep going, there’s a chance they go for the storm to punish me. I know that’s hurting someone else at the same time, but I can’t really see an alternative and I’m afraid of what I might do otherwise.”</p>
<p>As if on cue, their phones buzzed with the notification of the schedule posting. They each have it a quick look over.</p>
<p>”Well,” Lachlan said, “If the plan works, looks like I’ll be hanging out with Joe again. That’ll be nice.”</p>
<p>Mooney bit her lip. There wasn’t much she could say now he had seemingly made up his mind. “Just look after yourself. Consider it Doctor’s orders.”</p>
<p>Not even a chuckle. He just stared into the murk of his soup. She sighed, and stood up, reaching into her signature coat to withdraw her purse.</p>
<p>Lachlan perked up. “Oh, no, please Doc, I’ve got this. A thank you for coming out all this way on your own time.”</p>
<p>Mooney just shook her head. “You need it right now. And more than that, you’re my friend.”</p>
<p>Without waiting for more of a protest, she paid their bill, passed on her compliments to the staff, and left the building. She scowled a little at the waitress on her way out, but only because she was trying to keep the tears from showing.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Mooney kicked off her shoes, and made a beeline for her favourite chair; a well-worn, if overly padded armchair she had salvaged from the University’s common room, and relocated to her apartment’s balcony, where she could sit bathed in loving moonlight.</p>
<p>Quiet moments always brought introspection, and it was here she had the thought that if her teammates were feeling this bad while surrounded by friends and familiar faces, she could only imagine what Fish Summer was going through, all alone, where the rest of them had the Talkers, they had no-one.</p>
<p>She adjusted her glasses, and leaned back in the chair, all to get a better look at her wife in the night sky, basking in her resplendent lunar glory. Too late to stop it, she felt the tears come; at first in trickles, then streaming rivulets.</p>
<p>”Babe, what am I going to do? I keep losing them, and I’m not strong enough to keep them all here with me.”</p>
<p>The moon shone down in compassionate caring, but like most times, remained silent as her wife, sometime famed pitcher, sometime flawed human, wept in the darkness alone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hard Times</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Muscles tense, and release.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Tense, and release.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The melodic notes of fingers dancing across the keys of a piano, so softly.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>If she thought about it enough, she could almost picture herself in another time, another place.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>One without so much pain.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>A clattering from the nearby lockers, pulling her from her near trance-like concentration.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mooney Doctor reached over with a sigh to pause the cassette, and looked around. Hobbs Cain was picking himself up from the floor having slipped off a step-stool, and trying, poorly, to hide something behind his back.</p>
<p>"Uh, hey Doc. Sorry to interrupt." He said, awkwardly.</p>
<p>"What have you got there, Hobbs?" She arched an eyebrow at him.</p>
<p>"Me? Aw, nothing. I don't have anything. And if I did, it's mine. Don't worry about it."</p>
<p>He tried to make a break for the door, but either Ziwa Mueller or Fish Summer had left one of their dumbbells lying on the floor, positioned just so to cause Hobbs to stumble but not fall. It was enough of an opening for Mooney to pluck the book Hobbs had been hiding.</p>
<p>"Odd." She said, turning the book over in her hand, inspecting the mildewed cover. "Never had you pegged as much of a reader. No offense."</p>
<p>Hobbs jumped, struggling to reach through the disparity of height. "Give it back! The Leviathan gave me that, it's mine!"</p>
<p>Mooney quickly thumbed through the pages. Runes and arcane sigils of a multitude of origins and meanings flashed past, reflected in the lenses of her glasses. "This all looks very involved Hobbs. I hope you know what you're doing." she cautioned, handing the book back.</p>
<p>Hobbs practically snatched it from her, cradling it to his chest. "Yeah, well, we'll see. I'm still trying to understand most of it, but it's given me some ideas already. Might have to send you some of the notes after, see if you can help."</p>
<p>He was being defensive about something, but she didn't want to press. "Of course. We're teammates after all, and I would do most anything in my power to assist if requested. That is, depending on the task."</p>
<p>Hobbs just stared at his feet. "Sorry about this."</p>
<p>"About what?"</p>
<p>"You weren't meant to be here. No-one was."</p>
<p>"I do like my privacy sometimes, away from all the noise. And if no-one was meant to be here, why are <em>you</em> here?"</p>
<p>"I... I need to talk to them."</p>
<p>"Who?"</p>
<p>"The Pies. I have a... deal to make."</p>
<p>Alarm bells started ringing in Mooney's head, and memories of her conversation with Lachlan echoed. He had been so desperate for normality that he had antagonised an Umpire to the point of triggering a Feedback Storm with himself as the focal point. Antonio Wallace had been a welcome addition to the team of course, with a notable improvement to the box scores, if that was a thing you cared about. But it did lend a sort of authenticity to Shelton's concern of being left behind in a world of stand-outs. A 12-foot tall skeleton in pirate regalia draws more eyes than "average guy who loves donairs".</p>
<p>She decided to just ask the question, though dreaded the answer. "What are you going to do?"</p>
<p>"I need to get him back, Mooney. It's not right. It's like he's lost and can't find the way home."</p>
<p>"...Richmond."</p>
<p>"...Yeah."</p>
<p>Moments passed in silent camaraderie</p>
<p>"She has to know something." Hobbs said, almost to himself.</p>
<p>"She?"</p>
<p>"Jessica."</p>
<p>That made a kind of sense, Mooney supposed, if you were the kind of person to pay heed to the rumour mill. By some accounts, Jessica Telephone, the all-star batter, was a time-traveller amongst other things. Lachlan had said much the same, though his position on the subject was a little thornier. Regardless of rumours, facts stated that she was one of, if not the most, traded player in blaseball. If anyone knew any of the secrets of Feedback, it would be her. Mooney was unsure and concerned, but tried to remain stoic and dispassionate. This was an emotionally charged moment, and she didn't want to get anything wrong.</p>
<p>"You know the price, right? Blood for blood."</p>
<p>Hobbs rubbed his nose and sniffed, a nervous tic. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm heading over to their locker room before the game; to see if anyone wants to volunteer. That way, it shouldn't hurt as much."</p>
<p>Silence again.</p>
<p>"You know what I have to say here." Mooney said, words coming heavy.</p>
<p>"Mmhmm, and you know how I'd answer." Hobbs replied.</p>
<p>"Yes." She replied, voice barely a whisper.</p>
<p>Hobbs reached a furry hand up, spitting into the palm for the traditional team handshake, and Mooney reciprocated as their hands joined moistly.</p>
<p>"It's been an honour, Mooney." Hobbs said, emotion making his voice waver. Mooney said nothing, just nodded. She worried that the slightest noise she made would tear down the dam she had been building around her heart, one former teammate of a brick at at time.</p>
<p>The news was received by the Talkers with a variety of reactions. From denial, to incredulity, to solemn understanding. She didn't have much time to take it all in though, there was a game to play. Polkadot had shown up, ready to go as always, so it was only a matter of highly predictable time.</p>
<p>"<em><strong>PLAY BALL</strong></em>" came the Umpire's screech.</p>
<p>Hand in glove.</p>
<p>Muscles tense, and release.</p>
<p>Tense, and release.</p>
<p>Tense.</p><hr/>
<p>Bottom of the sixth inning. Moist Talkers held hard to a 3-0 lead. Mooney Doctor watched from the dugout. It was Greer Lott's rostered shift at the mound, but you could never tell what could happen, especially these days, so Coach requested all players to attend all games and be ready to go at a moment's notice. Just in case.</p>
<p>Hobbs' turn to bat. He gripped the wooden handle, a grip tighter than she had ever seen before.</p>
<p>"Well, this is it. Time to go."</p>
<p>He looked back at his team, a sad smile on his face.</p>
<p>"Guys, I won't say it's always been easy, but knowing you all made it as easy as it ever could've been. So thank you, everyone. Truly." Without waiting for any cries of protest , he strode toward home.</p>
<p>Fish Summer bolted upright and called out "CAIN!"</p>
<p>Hobbs stopped, and turned.</p>
<p>"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY FOR TAKING YOUR FRIEND, AND WRECKING YOUR MASCOT THING!" Fish continued to much surprise, not the least from Mooney. From everything she had observed thus far, this was close to a miracle.</p>
<p>Hobbs, risking a penalty for slow play, walked back towards the bench. He looked directly to Fish. "Hey bud, it's okay. It's not your fault. It's theirs." He pointed his bat at the Umpire floating above home plate. "And they should learn how they made one of the worst mistakes they ever had the misfortune of making, other that crawling out of the sludge that birthed them. Nah, you're all good Fish. Look after them for me."</p>
<p>He turned to return to the game as the Umpire's warning whistle blew like a tea kettle left to boil long past its time. He stood at home, and raised his bat the the sky as a signal. One of the Pies, Alston Cerveza it looked like, abandoned their position and started walking toward home. Mooney wondered what the opposite part of that conversation had been like; seeking a volunteer to uproot everything for a chance of a fanciful dream. From the horizon, a massive figure loomed out from cloud cove; The Leviathan. A staple of Talkers games, it had a particular relationship with Hobbs, though Mooney wasn't sure of the specifics, and some reports had it credited as the mother of Richmond Harrison. It gave a familiar, yet distinct, warbling cry; loud and long. The Umpire clutched the sides of its mask in apparent pain. It fired an incinerating beam at Hobbs, to no effect. Enraged, it held out a dreadful hand to the walls of the stadium, and the PA system crackled to life, feedback building like an explosion.</p>
<p>Ziwa called out something to Hobbs that Mooney couldn't hear over the high-pitched whining and static, yet Hobbs appeared to hear them, raising a fist in defiance and walking into the heart of the storm.</p><hr/>
<p>"I'm surprised at you, Fish." Mooney said to the power hitter. It had been a rough game, even without the Feedback. Alston had been assigned a buddy to help acclimatise to the transition, just as Antonio had before.</p>
<p>"Huh? Yeah, well, I figured if I'm on the team, I should try and get along, or something?" They scratched idly at their, quite frankly ludicrous, abdominal muscles.</p>
<p>"Well, you did very well, even if it did come a little later than one would hope. Still, with some more practice, I think we can actually make this work."</p>
<p>"Yeah. That's cool, I guess. Kinda just want to be left alone though. Got this weird feeling in my chest. Maybe I'm dying?"</p>
<p>Mooney gave them a quick appraisal. "Nothing seems wrong. Could it be you're just feeling feelings?"</p>
<p>"Nuh-uh! S-shut up!"</p>
<p>
  <em>Aha.</em>
</p>
<p>"Okay, I'll leave well enough alone for now. But tomorrow, our efforts redouble, as we challenge <em>poutine</em>!"</p>
<p>"The hell is poo-teen?"</p>
<p>"Only one of the gods' greatest gifts. Also, your pronunciation is terrible. We'll work on that too."</p>
<p>"Whatever you say Doc."</p>
<p>Mooney considered a physical show of sociability, but opted for a clinical pat on the shoulder as she made her way to her locker. Stuffed into the vents was a note. It had been scrawled on the back of a "Meet Richmond!" flyer that had hung around in stacks around the arena long after the event had taken place. Mooney struggled to read the atrocious handwriting, but eventually deciphered it, revealing it to be from Hobbs.</p>
<p>"<strong>Doc, I'll send some more of these notes to you. I'm sure you'll figure this out, you're miles smarter than me. - Hobbs</strong>"</p>
<p>A couple of loose sheets of copied pages lay at the bottom of the locker. From the little Mooney could tell, the pages spoke partial hints of great power, and great darkness in equal measure.</p>
<p>"Hobbs, just what is it you're getting yourself into...?"</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Bleak House</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Noise fades away. Focus on the signal of the shortstop. Muscles tense. Skin sliding over leather and yarn before release. The imperceptible carving of air. Bat cracking in connection. Crowd cheering and jeering in equal parts. Pounding footsteps as runners round bases on their tour to home. The drop of shoulders in realised shame and defeat. Feelings Mooney Doctor was all too familiar with. The visiting Seattle fans jump up and down in celebration with their team, as the hometown Moist Talkers fans are halfway to their vehicles already in now-familiar disappointment.<br/>“GAME OVER” exhales the Umpire, as it vanishes in black smoke as usual. Mooney stalked from the mound, trying to avoid eye contact with her teammates. Elijah Bates was approaching fast, eager to console.<br/>“That wasn’t a bad game, Doc. We just missed a couple of crucial runs, and...” he started before Mooney just walked past him, leaving him to fluster to himself.<br/>She didn’t have time for all this. There was always science to do, as well as the mystery of Hobbs’s infernal book, and helping Fish Summer with their integration, and trying to think of a way to get Richmond back, and a hundred other things. Blaseball was among the least of them.<br/>A post-game shower to hide the frustration, and back to it; tattered tome and illegible scrawling notes spread out in the auxiliary locker room that Mooney preferred, divorced from the rest of the team. It gave her solitude when desired, a break from the occasional inane nature of people.<br/>As she was puzzling over a particularly troublesome translation, she heard a knock at the door. Mooney turned to look, only to see a mostly-unfamiliar face, accompanied by a Garages uniform.<br/>“Sorry, is this a bad time? Your captain, Ziwa, said that I could probably find you here.” The man said, apologetically.<br/>Mooney adjusted her glasses. “It’s certainly not the best time, but I suppose. Please.” She tucked away several papers, clearing enough room for him to sit down, which he obliged.<br/>“I guess I should properly introduce myself: Theodore Duende, captain of the Seattle Garages.” He extended his hand to shake.<br/>Mooney reciprocated, and they shook firmly, and in proper fashion.<br/>“Mooney Doctor, pitcher for the Canada Moist Talkers. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Theodore?”<br/>He smiled. “Just Teddy. Everyone calls me that. Can I call you Doc?”<br/>Mooney’s eye twitched. “I’d... rather you didn’t.”<br/>Teddy raised his hands in defence. “Okay, that’s fair. I’m sorry; I’m used to being the ‘team dad’ of sorts with the Garages. Anyway, Ms. Doctor...”<br/>“It’s ‘Dr.’”<br/>“Really? You’re Doctor Doctor?”<br/>“Believe me, I’m aware of the nominative determinism.”<br/>“I didn’t mean any...”<br/>“No, it’s fine. Just call me Mooney, if it helps.”<br/>Teddy gave a slight seated bow. “Thank you Mooney; yes, that’s easier. Anyway, to the reason I’m here. Now you might not believe me, but I can ‘read’ pitches. It’s like tasting them, and each has a distinct profile. Meaning no offence, but yours have been sour of late. Obviously you’re under no obligation to open up, especially to a rival player, but I was wondering if there was anything bothering you you’d like to talk about?”<br/>Mooney looked the Seattle batter in the eyes, only to find a soft, gentle concern. There was no ulterior motive, no supernatural influence. Just a genuine care.<br/>“...Okay. Like a lot of things in Blaseball, it all started when The Book was opened.” Mooney said, pulling out the papers she had been consulting.<br/>Teddy listened to the whole thing, not interrupting or asking questions. Just letting Mooney say her piece.<br/>“...and now Hobbs is gone, which makes this whole thing even harder to understand!” Mooney realised she didn’t know how long she had been all but shouting, nor when the tears had started. Her whole body was shaking, except for where Teddy was hugging her; not tight, but with a warmth of comfort. She stiffened at first, but allowed herself to collapse into him, relying on his support.<br/>“Shh, it’s okay. We’ve all been through a lot lately.”<br/>Mooney let the hug continue for a moment; one little slice of time where her worries were elsewhere, before clearing her throat and pushing away. Teddy allowed her to break the embrace with ease, sensing the moment had passed.<br/>“Well anyway, that’s... that’s what’s been on my mind.” She stepped back, adjusting her coat, and wiping her eyes.<br/>“That’s certainly a lot. Definitely explains why your pitching has been off; who could focus with so much going on?”<br/>“Thanks for listening.”<br/>“Anytime. I mean it. Look, here’s my cell.” Teddy said, scribbling a number onto a scrap of paper before handing it to Mooney. “If you ever need to vent, or anything, just call. Okay?”<br/>Mooney took the number, and just nodded. She’d already embarrassed herself enough without risking more.<br/>The two were quiet for a moment before he spoke. “Have you got an idea for what you’re going to do about Fish?”<br/>She shook her head. “I’ve tried so many things, I don’t think I can get through to them.”<br/>He nodded, sagely. “I’m sure you’ll think of something; you’re a really smart person. Maybe you just need to look at things from a different perspective. Anyway, I should head on back before the band leave without me.”<br/>“Oh, yes. Wouldn’t want to keep you here. Would have to find a spot in the lineup for you. I’m sure Elijah wouldn’t mind a break.” Mooney said with a rough smile.<br/>“Ha! I’d have to learn all your Canadian songs, and honestly, who has the time these days?” Teddy replied, with a grin.<br/>He walked towards the door, and stopped, turning back. “Say, Mooney; mind if I get a copy of that book? Maybe I can help you work it out? We’ve got some people that have their own talents besides music and Blaseball back at The Garage, I think together we could crack it.”<br/>“What? Oh, I suppose so. Just, don’t go spreading it around unless you really need to. It seems dangerous, in a way.”<br/>Mooney opened her auxiliary locker, and pulled out a copied version of her notes on top of what Hobbs had left. She handed it out to him, but held on as he tried to take it.<br/>“I’m serious Teddy. I’m trusting you.”<br/>“Scout’s honor.”<br/>Mooney relinquished the pages, already feeling a seed of regret in her stomach.<br/>“Thank you again.” Mooney said as he left the room.<br/>“No worries, Doc.”</p>
<p>A season come and gone. Crabs against Garages, resulting in victory for the East coast. Party Time was in full swing. Mooney smoothed out her dress. The event she had been planning was already underway, but the main event was yet to come. “Are you ready?” She asked.<br/>“Yeah... guess so.” Fish Summer replied, picking at the sleeves of their custom tuxedo. “This doesn’t feel right, Doc.”<br/>“Nonsense, you’ll do great. Now come on, it’s almost time for the grand unveiling. You remember your lines?”<br/>“...Sure.” Fish looked sullenly at the ground, a far cry from the posing meathead they had been at the beginning of their tenure. Thanks to Mooney’s efforts, the slugger had been refined into a facsimile of a proper Canadian citizen.<br/>“Well then, that’s our cue.” Mooney said, gesturing towards the door.<br/>As they approached the main hall where the party was being hosted, Mooney signalled to the DJ to put on the track she had selected. She walked out alone to the centre of the stage where a microphone was set up. As she lifted it off the stand, she almost imagined she could hear the words “Hi, friend.”, but couldn’t place a source. Must be the nerves of public speaking.<br/>“Attention everyone. Attention.” She addressed the partygoers. The rabble of conversation petered off as people shifted their focus.<br/>“It’s been one heck of a season.” Mooney started, before being cut off by cries of agreement. She raised her free hand, to silence them again. “It’s been one heck of a season, full of eventful situations and just good old fashioned blaseball. But now the Party Time has started. And it is my great pleasure to reintroduce to you: your friend and mine, Fish Summer!” The crowd broke into applause as Mooney waved Fish onto the stage from the wings, music swelling in a dramatic, classical crescendo. She handed the microphone over.<br/>“Hello friends, my name is Fish Summer, and it is my great delight to be here in Halifax. I look forward to a great partnership, and the prospect of many strong... alliances to come.” They said, faltering over their lines. Mooney grimaced a little behind her smile; they had gone over this so many times!<br/>“And... yeah. Thank you.” They concluded, to applause from the partygoers, completely disregarding the rest of the carefully prepared speech. They left the stage, and headed for the punch, beginning to mingle. Mooney nodded and returned the microphone to its stand, making her way to the collective throng herself.<br/>Ziwa Muller found her before long. “I gotta say, I’m impressed Doc. You might’ve taken the longest to help acclimatise your assigned transfer, but you’ve definitely proven me wrong.”<br/>Mooney was only half-paying attention to the captain, she was still looking at Fish. Something was wrong. They were too... despondent? But this was a party, and one primarily for them, how could they be sad?<br/>Ziwa continued. “Well, I know when I’m beat, here’s your prize.” They pulled out an envelope with the CASA stamp on it from their jacket.<br/>Mooney looked at the envelope, then at Ziwa, then at Fish, then back at Ziwa.<br/>“Hold that thought. I need to check something.” Mooney said, before making her way through the crowd towards Fish. She grabbed their sleeve, excusing the both of them from the gathered guests, and together they went backstage, back to the dressing room.<br/>“What is wrong with you? This is a party for you; can’t you be happy about it? I went to a lot of effort for today.” Mooney said, pointing her finger at Fish.<br/>“This isn’t me, Doc. I can try and fake it all you want, but it’s like wearing a mask of someone I don’t know. I hate it here.” They said, slumping into a chair.<br/>Mooney opened her mouth to complain, before words rang in her mind from memory; Theodore Duende, telling her to look at things from a different perspective. Then it hit her. All the conflicts, all the arguments and troubles. One easy answer.<br/>“Oh my god. That’s it. I was so preoccupied with forcing you to fit the team, and placing my own prejudices on you, I never stopped to think about how you must be feeling. Alone in literally a foreign land, without your friends and teammates to rely on, having to conform to a mould that was never made for you. I spent so long trying to make you a more agreeable Canadian, I never once considered helping you be your own Fish Summer. I am so sorry.”<br/>“No, it’s fine Doc. You’re right, I was too much of a showboat. I’ll be better now.” Fish said, head down.<br/>“No please, I insist. Let me try and make it right. I have an idea...”</p>
<p>Mooney took the microphone again. “Friends, please allow me to apologise. I made an error earlier, but that’s been rectified. Please allow me to rereintroduce: Fish Summer.”<br/>The crowd applauded again, though with an uncertain rhythm of confusion as Fish Summer once more walked out onto the stage in their tux.<br/>Mooney looked over to the DJ and nodded. A thumping beat surprised the audience; this was markedly different than the classical Mooney had requested before. With one dramatic sweep, Mooney grabbed the bottom of Fish’s tuxedo jacket and shirt, and tore them away, leaving a crop-top version behind. Fish flexed, and the sleeves practically exploded off the jacket. The crowd, sensing the shift in mood started hollering and cheering, even starting a “Fish! Fish! Fish!” chant. Definitely inappropriate for what Mooney had envisioned, but it was better this way. She would have to learn that you couldn’t take someone, you had to accept them as they were. Happy with how things were going now, she found Ziwa in the crowd and made her way over. “Sorry, you were saying?”<br/>“What the heck is that, Doc? You know this means I win, right?”<br/>Mooney pulled out the Tlopps card in its case, and handed it over. “To be honest Ziwa, I thought about it, and I was always going to give this to you. I don’t need it to remind me of my wife, I know she’s always there.”<br/>Ziwa stared at the card in shock, and started laughing. “You’re kidding! I was always going to give you these tickets as well! You’ve just seemed so down on yourself lately, I thought I’d try and do the Captainly thing and look after my team. This is crazy!” They looked at Mooney for consent, and once she nodded slightly, went in for a big hug, which Mooney found herself returning.</p>
<p>The party continued, a raucous affair which Mooney found herself graciously excusing herself for, opting to stick to the wall instead of getting in the thick of things. Barely over the cacophony of the party, she heard her phone ring. The caller ID showed “T. Duende - Seattle”. She quickly found a quieter space and answered it. “Hello?”<br/>“Hey Doc, it’s Teddy.”<br/>“Hello again, how are you?”<br/>“Yeah, fine. Listen, the band and I have been reading your notes, and I think we’ve solved it. You’re right, it’s dark stuff, but there’s something to it.”<br/>“Oh?”<br/>“Yeah. What do you know about Jaylen Hotdogfingers?”<br/>“Just the usual, I suppose.”<br/>“Hm... How long would it take you to get to Seattle? I’ve contacted a couple of old friends in Yellowstone who are more knowledgeable about this kind of thing, but we need your help.”<br/>He explained a rough outline of their plan. Mooney looked at the party once again, weighing her options.<br/>“Okay.” She said. “If you’re going to do it anyway, I might as well make sure nothing goes wrong.” <br/>“See you soon.<br/>The line disconnected.</p>
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